


lost with you (take my hand)

by airblends



Series: SASO 2016 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Aged-Up Character(s), Explicit Language, Festivals, Fluff and Humor, Holding Hands, Light Angst, M/M, Mattsun is oblivious, Post-High School, SASO 2016, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7158749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airblends/pseuds/airblends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a missed stop or ten lead to an involuntary day trip to Kyoto for Matsukawa and Hanamaki, they find that maybe the journey really is its own reward sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lost with you (take my hand)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabflyingfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabflyingfox/gifts).



> Sorry for the terribly jumbled dw post, please forget that happened. (Enjoy! <3)
> 
> (I have a [tumblr](http://airblends.tumblr.com/) and a [twitter](https://twitter.com/yamaguchitxt).)

 

If you asked him, Matsukawa would probably say that Hanamaki Takahiro was the person he liked the most. This however didn’t negate the fact that he really would’ve liked to deck him in the face right now.

“We’re in Kyoto,” Matsukawa repeated for the umpteenth time, like he refused to believe it despite the glaring evidence. “ _Why are we in Kyoto?_ I can’t wrap my head around this. Why didn’t you wake me?!”

They were stood in a bustling train station, their luggage piled at their feet. Hanamaki was shrinking progressively with every word that left Matsukawa’s lips. It was usually impossible to honestly anger Matsukawa, but Hanamaki finally seemed to have found a way.

They were supposed to be in Tokyo now, where Oikawa and Iwaizumi must still be waiting for them. Oikawa’s birthday was coming up and they had promised to come and stay for a few days, but now it looked like they were going to be more than a little late.

“I’m sorry,” Hanamaki said, twiddling his thumbs, “I must’ve fallen asleep too.”

“Ugh.” Matsukawa raked his hands through his already messy hair, eyes raised to the ceiling in a silent prayer that this was just a dream. In all the years they’ve been taking the Shinkansen to places all over Japan, they had not once missed a stop, and now they were hundreds of miles away from their original destination.

Matsukawa sighed. He picked up his travel bag and hiked it over his shoulder, pointing at a sign overhead that read ‘Information Point’. “Come on,” he said, “let’s find out how long it’ll take us to get back.”

Hanamaki nodded and followed him wordlessly as they elbowed their way through the crowd.

 

“ _Six_ hours?” Hanamaki groaned, throwing himself into an empty seat in the waiting area. “You gotta be kidding me. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Six hours before the Shinkansen even _gets_ here. You can add on two more until we’re back in Tokyo.”

Hanamaki looked like he might burst into tears. Matsukawa put on his serves-him-right face, but dropped it again after a second. He could never be angry at Hanamaki for long. His initial bout of exasperation had already worn off; he’d come to terms with their fate for the foreseeable future. There was nothing they could do but wait now, and he had decided that they might as well use that time.

“You wanna grab something to eat? I promise I’m not gonna attack you with my food. I’m not angry anymore.”

“You’re not? Aw man, I was hoping for a food fight,” Hanamaki said, and Matsukawa snorted in response.

“Save that idea for Oikawa’s birthday, he’ll love it, I’m sure.”

“Iwaizumi won’t though,” Hanamaki pointed out. He didn’t sound particularly dejected at this realization.

“That makes it even better. I’ve always wanted to see his reaction to a handful of his beloved agedashi tofu down his collar.”

Hanamaki’s eyes lit up with glee. “Do you know that I love you?” he asked, knocking shoulders with Matsukawa as he got up and fell into step with him. “How about I treat you to something good for a change, to make up for earlier?”

“Hear, hear,” Matsukawa laughed. He accepted the offer gladly, but for some reason or another he wasn’t all that hungry anymore. There was a fluttery kind of sensation in his stomach—maybe he had drunk too much water on the way. Whatever it was, he didn’t have much time to dwell on it, since Hanamaki had already taken hold of his wrist and pulled him along, steering them towards the nearest food place.

  


Kyoto main station was packed, people with and without suitcases rushing from one platform to another, children running around, parents wearing expressions of fatigue while they chased after their rambunctious offspring. Many of them gave off a touristy vibe.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki fit right in, they were model tourists through and through. Short sleeved button downs, knee-length jeans, sandals. Travel bags. Sunglasses over snapbacks.

It didn’t take long for them to find a nice enough place, and while Matsukawa sat down, pulling out his phone to inform their friends of their delay, Hanamaki went to get their food.

 

“Do you have any idea why it’s so busy today? What the hell is even going on?” Hanamaki asked when he plopped himself down across from Matsukawa.

“It’s July, we’re in Kyoto. Everyone’s celebrating _Gion Matsuri_. Come to think of it,” Matsukawa paused, taking a bite of the okonomiyaki Hanamaki had bought him, “today’s the 17th, right? I think today’s the big procession with all those fancy floats.”

“Well, that explains it.” Hanamaki pointed his chopsticks at Matsukawa, earning a reproachful glare from the lady at the table next to theirs.

“Watch your manners, young man,” Matsukawa quipped, pitching his voice as high as it would go. Hanamaki kicked his shin under the table, but his lips were stretched into a grin.

“Anyway, you wanna go see it?”

“See what?”

“The procession,” Matsukawa said, chewing slowly. They still had plenty of time, and as far as he knew neither of them had ever been to Kyoto in time for _Gion Matsuri_.

Hanamaki shrugged. “Sure. It’s a date.” He said it with such a straight face that Matsukawa almost bought it.

And there it was again, that annoying fluttering in his gut. He really must’ve drunk too much, or maybe something was off about these okonomiyaki.

As he was already finished with his own, Hanamaki reached over to nab a piece of Matsukawa’s lunch, and Matsukawa let him. He wouldn’t have finished it anyway, and that would’ve just been a waste.

 

It took them a bit of time to make sense of the bus and train time tables, but in the end they found a route that worked for them. The ride was uneventful and short, a stark contrast to what they were greeted with once they got off.

It was _loud_. Music blaring, people cheering, the deep beat of taiko drums. A distinct rhythm led them towards the source of the commotion, and when Matsukawa and Hanamaki made their way around the nearest corner they saw them. Some of the floats were gigantic, Matsukawa had to crane his neck to be able to see them entirely, and he felt terribly small next to them. Hanamaki was a warm presence, standing close to him and gaping in awe.

“Holy shit, how have we never been here before? This is crazy,” he said, squinting against the sun.

“We’re lucky we’ve caught the tail end of the procession, Google tells me it’ll be over in half an hour.”

“What? Already? Some luck we have.”

“This was your fault in the first place. We weren’t even supposed to be here, remember?”

“I thought you weren’t angry anymore?” Hanamaki raised a tiny eyebrow.

“I’m not, dumbass. Just stating the obvious.”

“Well, you’re obviously wrong. It’s all _thanks_ to me that we get to be here, you should be _honored_.”

“How could I forget,” Matsukawa deadpanned.

“Now that’s more like it. You think we can catch up some if we run?” Hanamaki pointed down the street.

“Why not. It’s not like we’ve got anywhere to be.”

“Excellent.”

 

They followed the flow of the procession, jogging lightly at first before breaking into short sprints as gaps appeared in the crowd. Matsukawa kept nearly running into people, he couldn’t help but stare at the floats and the pretty costumes. There were little food stalls off to the side of the street, vendors selling drinks and snacks, colorful lampions lining the buildings. He’d been to festivals before, but nothing quite like this. A lot of people were wearing yukatas, and he kind of wished he’d thought to bring his. Not that he could’ve predicted he’d need it. He wondered if Hanamaki owned one. (Probably.)

While he tried to keep up with his friend who’d pulled a ways ahead, his thoughts drifted.

Festivals had a kind of aura, a certain lightheadedness about them. He remembered last year’s _Tanabata_ well—it’d been him, Hanamaki, Oikawa and Iwaizumi, and he and Hanamaki had spent the entire night poking fun at their friends for obviously having a crush on each other.

He remembered scrawling a wish on a slip of paper and tying it to a tree, but he didn’t remember the wish. He did remember Oikawa and Iwaizumi sneaking off together, holding hands, leaving him and Hanamaki free to roam the area on their own, and he remembered how they couldn’t find them again in time for the fireworks, so they ended up watching them alone. He remembered the sky exploding into color, and the smell of fried seafood, and the warmth of a body pressed up against him.

He remembered leaning over to whisper something to Hanamaki, surprised to find a pair of dark eyes already looking at him. There’d been a brush of fingers, gentle and barely-there, a hushed, “What?” and a low, “Nothing,” before Hanamaki’d turned away again, a smile on his lips. For that one moment, he’d felt like a spell had been cast on him.

Matsukawa’s stomach dipped, making him feel full even though he hadn’t eaten much. Why of all things did he have such a clear memory of that particular moment? What was up with him today?

“Hey, Hanamaki,” he called, voice a little croaky, “d’you think we can slow——Hanamaki?”

Matsukawa stopped running. There were people all around him, but Hanamaki wasn’t one of them. _Oh crap._

Matsukawa looked around wildly, heartbeat picking up. Still no Hanamaki.

This entire day was a disaster, he decided. First they had both fallen asleep on the train and missed their stop, and now he’d lost Hanamaki altogether.

“Shit,” he muttered, panic rising in his throat, feet picking up speed again. He had to find him, and quick. What if someone bothered him? Or worse, what if _he_ bothered someone and got in a fight? What if he called Oikawa for help and ended up passed out in a ditch? He couldn’t let that happen.

In a fit of unexpected level-headedness, he pulled his phone out and punched in Hanamaki’s number. He let it ring for a minute, two, a million times until it finally went to voicemail, his knuckles turning white with how hard he was gripping the device. Stuffing it back into his pocket, he started moving again, apologizing left and right to the people he’d accidentally elbowed.

After a while he started calling out to him too, sporadically checking his phone for texts or missed calls, but there were none. Hanamaki still wouldn’t pick up his phone either, which did nothing to help Matsukawa stay calm. How would he explain to Hanamaki’s parents that he’d lost their son in fucking Kyoto of all places? They were going to skin him alive. Newspaper headings popped up in his mind, _Young man found dead after abandoning best friend in foreign city, no witnesses_ , or, _Kyoto mystery: Where is Hanamaki Takahiro?_ He ran faster.

 

It didn’t take long for Matsukawa to run out of breath, and he skidded to a halt, hunching over as he fought for air. His head was spinning with a nasty migraine, and fuck, he was _worried_. His shirt was plastered to his skin by now, sticky with sweat, and his feet were sore from running. With a low whine, he sunk to the ground, his back against a brightly decorated wall. The world seemed too loud, and he wanted nothing more than to be back home with his best friend, to play video games and just talk. He hadn’t asked for all of this. 

“God, where are you?” he muttered to himself, voice shaking. “Fuck you, Takahiro. Shit. Fuck.”

Matsukawa wasn’t one to cry easily, but as soon as he felt that prickling in his eyes, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fight it. Hell, he’d never been in a situation like this, he was tired and his heart was racing, he was scared. He knew noone in this place, he had no reason to keep up a façade, so he let it happen, allowing a few silent tears to roll down his cheeks and drip on the warm asphalt. It helped, a little. A dull buzzing sound reached his ears, but he was too preoccupied to be able to tell where it was coming from.

He sat there, ignoring the rest of the procession passing him. All he could think of was Hanamaki, wandering around alone, or maybe sitting somewhere as well. Maybe he should walk back to the station and wait for him there, after all they still had to catch their train back. While he mulled his options over, wiping at his eyes, the buzzing grew louder, annoying to a point where he thought he could feel it. It was a funny feeling, he thought, similar to the vibrations of a cell phone. 

And then he shot up.

 

Matsukawa missed the _accept call_ button four times before he finally hit it, and the first word he choked out  was Hanamaki’s name. “Takahiro?”

“Issei! Issei, are you there?” Hanamaki was upset, he could tell by the pitch of his voice, but _thank fuck_ , he was okay, he could hear him, they were going to work something out. Everything was going to be alright.

“I’m here, fuck, where are you? Why didn’t you pick up the phone?”

A hiccup sounded over the connection. “I never heard it, and I was freaking out because I swear, you were right behind me until you weren’t, and then—”

“I’m so sorry, this is my fault,” Matsukawa said, pacing back and forth. “Where are you?”

“Um, I’m at Yasaka Shrine, do you know where that is?”

“You’re on the other side of the river?! What are you doing there, praying for a miracle?” If Matsukawa wasn’t still in shock, he would’ve laughed.

“Can you just come get me?” Hanamaki begged. “Please.”

Matsukawa’s heart clenched painfully. “I’ll be there in ten.”

 

* * *

 

Like the rest of the city, the entrance to Yasaka Shrine was crowded, but spotting Hanamaki was as easy as breathing. He was sitting on the stairs leading up to the Torii gate, and he jumped to his feet the instant he recognized Matsukawa.

“Issei!” he yelled, turning a few heads his way, but neither of them cared. He threw his arms around him, squeezing Matsukawa tightly. Relief washed through him as he returned the embrace, breathing in Hanamaki’s familiar scent. He’d found him.

They stood there for a while, taking time to calm down, and even when Hanamaki let go of Matsukawa he kept close, their shoulders brushing.

“What a wild day, huh?” he said.

“You can say that again.”

“Sorry for running off on my own.”

“It’s okay, I lost sight of you because I was distracted.”

Hanamaki raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment, which was unusual, but Matsukawa could definitely appreciate it. 

“So,” Hanamaki said, kicking idly at the ground.

“So,” Matsukawa echoed.

“What’s the plan?”

Matsukawa checked his watch for the time. Two and a half hours left.

“I don’t know. We can go back if you want,” he offered with a shrug. He’d had enough of running around unknown streets, but if Hanamaki had a better idea…

“I thought maybe we could…” he trailed off, instead opting to point wordlessly at the shrine.

“You want to visit the shrine?”

Hanamaki ducked his head. “Well, since we’re already here. Plus, I’m sure you could use some purification.” He hipchecked Matsukawa gently, and it seemed like losing Matsukawa had left him mostly cold after all. 

“What, how many sins do you think have I committed?” Matsukawa asked, swallowing the lump building in his throat.

“At least two?”

“Those being?” Matsukawa smirked. To his surprise, all that followed was silence, and Hanamaki’s cheeks flushed a pretty ruby red.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Okay, see you at the station.” Matsukawa made to turn around, but something caught his wrist, forcing him to turn back around.

“Issei,” Hanamaki said softly, “I was really scared back there.” _Oh._

Matsukawa had thought Hanamaki had taken this better than him, and he was secretly glad that he hadn’t. He knew exactly what he meant, and imagining Hanamaki going through the same panic he had experienced gave his heart a painful squeeze. “Me too,” he admitted. “That won’t happen again, though.”

Hanamaki’s eyes were molten silver, locking Matsukawa in place while he cocked his head to the side.

“How? D’you want to handcuff us together? I always knew you were a kinky fucker.”

Matsukawa laughed at the mental image, but shook his head.

“Here,” he said, voice softening when he took Hanamaki’s hand and laced their fingers. “Isn’t this easier?”

Hanamaki’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, then he glanced up to meet Matsukawa’s eyes.

 _It’s a date._ Hanamaki’s words from earlier echoed through Matsukawa’s mind, and for a moment he second guessed himself. What if Hanamaki had been serious after all?

“You okay with this?” he asked.

“Sure,” Hanamaki answered, biting his lip on the hint of a smile. (Matsukawa’s stomach downright _flipped_. What the fuck.) “Let’s go in?”

“Whatever you want,” Matsukawa said, gently pulling Hanamaki up the stairs towards the shrine. He tried to ignore the frantic beat of his own heart, chalking it up to the remaining shock.

 

They made their way to the purification fountain to rinse their hands and mouths, making faces at each other before spitting the water out. They let go of each other for it, but before Matsukawa knew it, Hanamaki’s hand was back in his, the feeling as natural as could be.

He was warm and the skin of his palm was unexpectedly soft despite the small callouses.

They walked around in comfortable silence, observing the other visitors, taking pictures to show their friends.

Once they reached the offering hall, they shared a quick glance, nodded in understanding, and let go of each other. Hanamaki fished around his wallet, producing two five yen coins, and passed one of them along to Matsukawa, so they could throw them into the offering box.

While Matsukawa bowed deeply twice, he tried to remember the last time he’d come to a shrine to pray, but it must’ve been years. Last year of high school most likely, right before the university entrance exams.

He righted himself, clapped twice, bowed again. Without waiting for Hanamaki, he closed his eyes to pray. At first there was nothing he could think of to pray for except good luck with his exams. For a while, he enjoyed the peace and calm after what had happened before, taking deep, conscious breaths. He listened for the birds singing in the trees above, and the muted sound of footsteps, and Hanamaki’s even breathing. He thought he could hear him mumbling quietly to himself, and just like that, Matsukawa knew what his own wish was going to be.

When he opened his eyes, Hanamaki’s were still closed. His mouth was unmoving now, but the edges were turned up slightly, like he was reliving a good memory. Maybe he was thinking of a wish, or giving thanks for making a previous one come true. Matsukawa was unable to look away. This moment felt infinitely intimate, a little as though he was discovering a new side to his best friend, or as if he was being granted access to his diary.

Hanamaki finished his prayer soon after, and he opened his eyes slowly, flicking them over to Matsukawa almost instantly. It didn’t feel weird or uncomfortable. He smiled, and Matsukawa smiled back, warmth rising in his chest. Hanamaki sidled up to him again, sliding his fingers between his, and like that, they made their way back, down the stairs, bowing slightly as they passed through the Torii gate.

 

The streets of Kyoto weren’t as busy as before midday, but they were still _busy_. Sunrays burned hot on Matsukawa’s bare underarms, a breeze ruffled the bit of hair that stuck out beneath Hanamaki’s snapback. It reminded him of a stray piece of candy cotton. 

It had been a silent agreement, a mutual decision that they’d head back to the station now, so they wouldn’t have to hurry to catch their train. Hanamaki was humming to himself like Oikawa often did, but it wasn’t a tune Matsukawa recognized. It was nice though, so he didn’t interrupt him for the usual sarcastic remark about his old man voice. Actually, Matsukawa was rather fond of it; it was deep but not scratchy, a little throaty, but smooth in a way that could give you goosebumps.

Instead of saying anything, he ran his thumb along Hanamaki’s, feeling the shape and texture of his skin. Something about it made him want to pull him closer, and yet, it was Hanamaki who closed the gap between them, stepping in so their shoulders bumped with every other step. It was like he could read his mind. It made Matsukawa think of his wish, and he hoped it would be granted. 

From time to time, Matsukawa would risk a glance and look down at their linked hands. Holding hands with Hanamaki felt good, he liked it. He really liked it, liked the atmosphere that came with it, liked the physical proximity. It gave him that funny feeling in his stomach that he’d long stopped blaming on his diet. It had to be something else. Hormones maybe. Or maybe it was Hanamaki’s fault, because Matsukawa’s heart felt like it was going to burst whenever their eyes met now. He’d have to figure that out soon.

 

It took Matsukawa a long while before he realized that even when they entered the station and the probability of one of them going missing was nearing zero, Hanamaki still hadn’t made a single attempt at letting go of his hand.

 

* * *

 

“You’ll have to carry me home,” Hanamaki mumbled into Matsukawa’s shoulder,  followed by a massive yawn.

They were curled up on two metal seats in the waiting area, Hanamaki using Matsukawa as a pillow. He had let go of Matsukawa’s hand eventually, but he didn’t mind, not when they were like this, anyway. Their Shinkansen would arrive shortly, all they had to do now was wait. (They’d texted Oikawa and Iwaizumi again, agreeing to meet up at the station in Tokyo and share a taxi back to their flat.)

Matsukawa was tired too, despite his nap on the train earlier that day, but he was positive he could deal with a two hour ride. Hanamaki however, looked like he might pass out any second now. How that was even possible was a mystery to Matsukawa.

“You want a coffee before we get on?” he asked, thoughtlessly brushing a strand of hair out of Hanamaki’s eyes.

“No, coffee always makes my mouth taste like crap,” Hanamaki muttered. One of his hands curled into the fabric of Matsukawa’s shirt and held on. _Cute_. There was no other word for it.

“Well, what _do_ you want?”

“Sleep.”

“Not happening.”

“ _Sleep_.”

“Yeah, no.”

“Then make me not want to sleep.”

Hanamaki’s sleepy stubbornness never failed to amuse Matsukawa. “What exactly did you have in mind? Do you want me to cause a racket? Or should I slap you?”

Hanamaki exhaled a tiny laugh against him. “I don’t know, anything. Be creative, Issei.”

 _Issei_ again. Matsukawa loved how his name sounded when Hanamaki said it like this, mouthed it against his skin. It made him feel like it was just the two of them, like they weren’t in a public train station. 

“Anything? Really?”

“Yeah, just. Keep me awake, I don’t care how. Scare me if you can, you’re free to do whatever.” Hanamaki said all that, but his body betrayed his words; if anything he grew heavier against Matsukawa, his legs half draped over his lap. It made Matsukawa’s heart pound with the urge to lean down so he could see his face better, his eyes, his nose, his lips.

He felt like he wanted to hold Hanamaki’s hand again, feel his skin against his own.

He felt like he wanted to fall asleep next to him on the train, even if they’d miss their stop again, and he felt like wrapping his arms around him while he did.

He felt like he wanted to ruin their friendship, because it was right there, in the middle of Kyoto station, that he realized that he wanted to kiss him.

“I’m waiting,” Hanamaki whispered.

“I can do anything?” Matsukawa’s heart was in his throat, making it hard to breathe.

“Most definitely.”

Matsukawa swallowed. “Okay. Look up.”

Hanamaki did, his eyes a little unfocused. Instinctively, one of his hands came up to rest on Matsukawa’s neck, and that gave him the final push. Cupping both of his hands around Hanamaki’s cheeks, he leaned in and pressed their lips together, not even thinking of people seeing.

Hanamaki jumped, but instead of pulling away, he chased after the kiss. He was warm and heavy, the feeling of his lips sliding against Matsukawa’s making his skin tingle. He made a tiny noise in the back of his throat, his hand sliding into Matsukawa’s hair like he didn’t care, like he  _wanted_ this, wanted _him_. If there were butterflies in Matsukawa’s stomach before, they had now grown to the size of little airplanes.

“This work for you?” he asked when he pulled back, realizing his cheeks were on fire. Hanamaki was still close, their lips brushing with every word he spoke.

“I’m not sure,” he said, attempting and failing to bite back a smile, “you might just have to try again.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Their noses bumped when Hanamaki answered. “Try. Again.”

 

Matsukawa tried again, and he could feel Hanamaki smile into it. Hanamaki kept insisting he had to try harder. (Every kiss felt better than the next. Matsukawa felt so full he thought he could quit food forever if he was with Hanamaki.)

 

(They only stopped when the train arrived, but luck was on their side today. They found a carriage that was mostly empty, which gave them enough privacy and time to get in some words between kisses.) 

 

(They almost missed their stop a second time that day, but it wasn’t because they were asleep.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Mattsun's wish was being able to stay friends with Hanamaki for as long as possible.  
> 2\. The two sins Hanamaki had in mind were Mattsun's long legs and the way his smile could turn his insides to gloop. (I've mentioned Mattsun's infamous smiles on twitter before, I'm convinced they do things to you.  
> 3\. They didn't tell IwaOi about what happened between them until after their stay, but Oikawa knew. He always knows.


End file.
